


Stiles And His Squishy Hugs

by orphan_account



Series: A Trilogy of Fatherhood Fics [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Future Fic, Happy, M/M, Surrogacy, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years ago Stiles was sixteen, his best friend had just been bitten by werewolf, and his life was changed forever.<br/>Twenty years ago he met the future love of his life and accused him of murdering his own sister. </p><p>Twenty years ago he began a journey through chaos and hell and sometimes he really can't believe he came out on the other side in Paradise. </p><p>A 36 year old Stiles reflects on his life with Derek, their cubs, and the strong pack they built in spite of all the odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles And His Squishy Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> I was suddenly taken with the urge to write the happy ending I just know we're never going to get in canon (I'm a bundle of paranoia and fear about S3). So here's my take on a Sterek-centric happy ending with the pack united.

“What's this?” Stiles asked pointing to a powdered grey substance in a vial clearly marked with an alchemical symbol but no written name. His other hand rested gently on his daughter's shoulder. She's ten years old now and she rolls her eyes like he's just asked her if she can tie her shoes. Prim and confident, she recited what she knows her father wants to hear. 

“Antimony. Powdered. It is toxic to humans and should be handled with care. For werewolves, however, it has many beneficial properties. It comes from stibnite, also known as Lupus metallorum. A single stibnite crystal inserted into a wolf's bane bullet wound is the only way to counteract the poison if an exact match for the type of aconite used in the bullet cannot be found. Powdered antimony, when mixed with sulphur and salt, guards against demons. If diluted with water and applied to a werewolf's wound, it can speed the healing process, even with injuries caused by an alpha. It should never be inhaled or in any way ingested, however, because it acts on the werewolf body the same way PCP would to a human and is highly addictive. For these reasons it should be used with caution, even for healing purposes.”

Stiles smiled and jingled the key to his trunk. “Which is why we keep it carefully locked away from the Halespawn you call your brothers and never, never, tell them what it does, Yes? Our little secret?” He winked and delighted in her smile. She doesn't even roll her eyes at his favorite pun, the one he always uses when referring to her older brothers, the triplets. 

He knew it could sometimes be hard for Ellie (named for his mother, Elizabeth) to be the youngest, the only girl, and the only human. She's a strong girl, and the self-defense classes Derek insists on have helped to show her that, still, Stiles knew that roughhousing with her brothers could do a number on her self-esteem. Having always been 147lbs of pale skin and fragile human bones hanging around with werewolves, Stiles definitely understands his daughter's predicament. 

Halespawn really is the only appropriate way to categorize the triplets, especially now that they're thirteen and hitting puberty. Derek really had to assert his authority as alpha to keep them in line. Last year they'd been playing with fireworks, _indoors for christ's sake_ , and nearly lit the house on fire. It was really, really not funny as much as Stiles had wanted it to be. Far from an amusing teenage prank, it was big mess of trauma memories that almost sent Derek over the edge from necessary disciplinarian to a place Stiles knew Derek never, never wanted to go. Thankfully that's why Stiles is there to rein in the alpha and to help Derek have conversations with their kids that he knows his mate would rather face down a league of hunters than have alone; Specifically conversations about fire safety and things to never do around their elderly uncle Peter. 

Yes, Peter was part of the pack and still alive. Stiles didn't like it. He understood that Peter had been a good man once and knows that Derek still has those memories. He understands that the fire drove him mad, he understands that Derek blames himself for the fire and everything that comes from it (including Peter killing Laura), but Stiles still doesn't like it. Stiles will never see things that way. He will never see anyone at fault for the fire other than Kate, and he'll never see anyone but Peter at fault for Laura's death. Okay, okay, sometimes, when his feelings are at their maximum level of charity towards his mate's uncle, he can blame Kate for that too. He still doesn't trust Peter, even after all these years. Derek does though, and if Derek trusts Peter to be in the pack, trusts Peter to help raise their kids, then Stiles had to accept that. Maybe Peter was healing, maybe he was becoming the man Derek once knew. Either way, Stiles knows he's not one of the ones Peter really needs forgiveness from. That's Derek and Lydia, two of the people in the world who inspire some of his strongest protective urges, so if he's still giving Peter the side-eye twenty years down the road well...Stiles can't help it. 

His kids love Peter though, he and Stiles's father are the closest they have to grandparents, and it's a vivid reminder of how much they've lost and how much their kids don't know. There's a lot that will come in time, but there is also a lot that they will never be told. It was Derek's choice not to tell them in explicit detail about Laura's death, about Peter being the Alpha, about Kate...They know there was a fire, they know it was caused by hunters, they know Uncle Peter used to be in a coma and not to talk about him in town because everyone thinks he's dead, but that's all they know.

Derek thought that was enough. Derek didn't want to deal with explaining the truth of it to their kids. He doesn't lie, he never lies, he just keeps secrets, secrets that Stiles is sure will catch up to them one day. Even if the triplets don't ever ask the questions, Stiles is sure Ellie will. She has an inquisitive mind and an interest in family history. She's a ticking time bomb. For now, though, Stiles respects Derek's wishes. He's in no hurry to discuss this either. The kids are young and they fought so hard for this peace, this normality, against Peter, against the Argents, Jackson as the Kanima, against the Alpha pack, against demons, witches, and fairies, and all manner of supernatural creatures who had challenged them for the Hale territory while they tried to rebuild their pack. He can't blame Derek for wanting to wait as long as possible before he has to open old wounds. 

It's been ten years since they had an invader in their territory. Stiles was 26 then, and had recently assumed his father's old job. Ellie was an infant, just delivered to their custody by the surrogate mother who had carried her for Stiles. The triplets, biologically Derek's, were three years old. They were energetic little werewolf toddlers who had been carried by a female werewolf from a friendly pack back east who were allied with the Hales. 

Perhaps realizing that the Hales were beginning to solidify their hold, a pack from farther north had decided to make a last ditch effort to wrest control of Beacon Hills away from its young alpha.  
That was a really terrible mistake. Stiles normally hated to be left out of the fighting, but this time was different. This time they had their cubs to protect so Stiles had no complaints about grabbing his gun, rounding up the children, and heading to the panic room Derek had built in the cellars below the house for exactly that purpose. 

Stiles didn't want to think about the things Derek had done and he was glad the cubs were too young to remember. Suffice it to say, the message was sent that the Hale family was firmly back in control of Beacon Hills and the surrounding area and further encroachments would not be tolerated. 

They'd had ten years of peace, but they never took it for granted. 

Stiles taught Ellie everything he knew, everything the past two decades of hanging out with werewolves has taught him, all the the things a human can do to help her pack, both by healing and by fighting. Her Aunt Allison helps a lot with the fighting aspect, teaching her archery and how to douse her arrows in wolf's bane. The cubs have never had to fight, and Stiles hopes they never do, but the whole pack makes sure they know all the dangers that are out there, rival packs and feral wolves included. 

He won't feel any sense of betrayal if Ellie chooses to take the bite. He just wants his girl to be happy, whether as a wolf or a human, but he's going to make sure she knows how strong she is, how capable she is, and how valuable she is to the pack exactly as she was born before she makes that decision. He won't waste a day not training her to be the strongest human she can be just on the off-chance she one day decides she wants to be like her brothers. 

“Dad,” She spoke, pulling him back to reality. “is that enough for now? Can I go? Aunt Lydia offered to take me shopping.” 

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, go, but if she tells you anything about how to climb the social ladder _do not listen_ , and remind her you all need to be home in time for supper. The whole pack is getting together, and you and I are going to review the different types of aconite before bed tonight.”

Ellie groaned and rolled her eyes again and Stiles found it so strange how she's the spitting image of his father if his father were a ten year old girl. He watched her go before carefully putting away the substances they'd been reviewing and locking his trunk. He always kept his supplies under lock and key. Usually when the kids tried to raid them it was for something as harmless as Ellie using mountain ash to keep her brothers out of her room, but he was never taking any chances. Stiles thought that the use of mountain ash was very clever and totally fair, but Derek had insisted it was a safety hazard if she ever managed to incapacitate herself in her bedroom and he needed to get to her. Stiles still thought Derek was being overly paranoid imagining all kinds of horrible _jumping on the bed gone terribly wrong_ scenarios, but he had conceded. 

Derek was concerned about the safety of all their cubs, of course, but his little human Ellie above all. Stiles was having to constantly, _constantly_ remind him that humans were not actually made of fragile spun sugar. 

When the eldest of the triplets, Johnathan (named for Derek's grandfather), who Stiles could already tell Derek was grooming to be the next alpha, accidentally broke Ellie's arm in a probably very ill advised game of twister that Stiles had instigated on the living room floor, Derek had a full on red-eyed black-fur sprouting freak out and Stiles had felt kind of, maybe, completely stupid for not seeing this coming when he suggested their kids play twister. He just wanted to share a bit of his childhood but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. 

It was a really difficult balance to strike between educating the boys on how to handle Ellie properly, to understand the comparative weakness of the human form, and keeping them from treating her like a china doll and destroying her confidence in the process. 

In the beginning it was nerve wracking. Stiles and Derek were both certain they were going to fuck it up, but when he thought about how her brothers aren't afraid to jostle playfully with her now, and how confident Ellie seems when she practices archery with Allison, Stiles is pretty sure they've managed to hit that balance perfectly.

With his trunk safely locked away, Stiles exited his study and made his way to the kitchen to start dinner. Cooking for the whole pack takes a lot of time and a little help here and there. Yes, Stiles did most of the cooking. He liked doing the cooking and he was used to it after taking care of his dad. He knows some people around town talk, especially since he chose to take Derek's last name. He lets the typical sexist cracks about being the 'wife' or the 'girl' just blow over him. It's nobody's business what a married couple does about their name, regardless of the combination of genders involved. The same people who gossip about him taking the name Hale are the same ones who were just _scandalized_ when Lydia decided to stay Ms. Martin instead of becoming Mrs. Whittemore when she finally married Jackson and, seriously, fuck those people. 

He doesn't mind when certain people, especially friends of his dad, refer to him as Sherriff Stilinski from time to time. He knows that for what it is, a friendly reminder of how long his dad had served the town before retiring and how loved he was. It's more of nickname, something used informally, never when professional decorum is required. 

He chose to take Derek's name because, while it often felt like he and his dad were the only Stilinskis, Stiles did have cousins out of town, people who would carry on the family name, and Derek didn't have that, Stiles knew that while Derek would never have asked, but it meant a lot to him that the whole family was unified under the Hale name. 

Stiles's dad had been fine with it. He understood. He had absolutely, and unequivocally **not** been okay with finding out his 17 year old son had been dating an alpha werewolf he had previously accused of murder...but by the time it was his 21 year old son marrying his boyfriend of 4 years who had managed to slowly earn the Sheriff's trust and affection, his dad was completely open minded. 

Stiles entered the spacious kitchen. When Derek had been redesigning the Hale house Stiles had insisted on a large kitchen. He wanted the whole pack to have a place to eat together. They'd worked so hard, suffered through so much, so many brushes with death, so many near desertions, and crises of faith, to get to the point where the pack was a real family that Stiles really wanted a giant kitchen and dining room where everyone could congregate at least once every few months. It wasn't something Stiles could even imagine managing to do every day, but it was very important for the pack's well being. 

The dining room was connected to the open kitchen, but on a lower level, a few steps down. Most of the kitchen is devoted to work space, all marble counters and a bar that backs up to the dining room, but part is taken up by the small round table. Usually the smaller table is where the family eats when the rest of the pack isn't gathered. Stiles didn't like the idea of having a kid's table, but it's a necessity due to the size of their pack, so when they all gather the cubs use the little table in the kitchen and the adults gather at the long oak table in the dining room. Stiles knew the cubs didn't mind, even if they did eavesdrop on the adults' conversation. 

He set fifteen places at the long table for himself and Derek, his dad, Peter, Scott and Allison, Mrs. McCall, Erica and Boyd, Lydia and Jackson, Isaac and Danny and their respective mates. Staring at all the places set, he was amazed by how much the pack had grown, and that wasn't even considering the cubs. Everything was right. _Finally_. He knew Derek's family could never be replaced, he knew that pain would always be there. He looked at their cubs sometimes and desperately wished his mother could've seen them. He can only imagine what it must be like for Derek to have to feel that way about every relative he lost. Even so, he knew Derek was happy now in a way he once thought he never would be again, and that knowledge gives Stiles peace. They all made it. Miraculously, they all made it. 

They'd had to scatter for awhile, for college, but they'd all stayed as close as possible – ready to rush back to Beacon Hills, to their alpha, should he ever need them. Stiles had studied criminology and folklore, a combination that had never stopped baffling his professors, and returned to work his way up through the small town police force to assume his father's position as Sheriff, a very useful role for a member of the pack to fill.

In fact, they all had careers that contributed in some way or another to the pack's well being. Scott and Isaac both went to work for the forestry department, giving them a chance to keep an eye on the preserve and patrol the boundaries of Hale land during their work. Allison became a teacher at the the high school, something they are all going to be immensely grateful for when the cubs reach that age. Derek and the others are good at teaching the little wolves control, but Stiles remembers his high school experience, and having Allison there to watch over the pack's next generation is going to be a huge relief. Erica owned a bar now, one the most successful in Beacon Hills. Being a bartender might not have seemed like the most useful thing to bring to the table, but it really was. Stiles couldn't count how many times rogue hunters had been quickly detected and dispatched because they stopped in for a drink and had no idea the beautiful blond behind the bar they were flirting with could smell the wolf's bane and gunpowder all over them.

Boyd was with Stiles at the Sheriff's department. He was now Deputy Boyd and the two had formed a surprisingly strong friendship. He was just as stalwart as ever, unflinching, and just plain incapable of being bribed or swayed in any way. They had the best good cop/bad cop thing going. The officers at the station liked to call them Slim and The Hulk when they thought they couldn't be overheard. Their interrogations were legendarily successful. Not only was having a werewolf deputy useful for the simple fact that they're living lie detectors, but criminals were usually willing to work with the lanky good-natured Sheriff once they had a look at his massive no-nonsense deputy. Where Isaac and Scott kept an eye on the rural areas of the territory, Stiles and Boyd patrolled the streets of Beacon Hills and the highways and smaller towns that made up the county.

Lydia, having always been a bit too big for Beacon Hills, travelled a lot both for personal pleasure and part of her work as a lawyer. Even being based out of a small town, she had earned a reputation for excellence and clients would often pay extra to fly her across the country to represent them or just to give legal counsel. She'd published several very well received works and had become something of a celebrity. If she moved to a big city, Stiles had no doubt she would soon have her own talk show or be on some reality TV court room drama and make millions but Lydia chose to stay close to Beacon Hills.

All of Jackson's family businesses were based in the surrounding area (and they were making the little family plenty of money already) so Jackson had gone into local politics. Pack or not, Stiles was still slightly disgusted every time he heard someone say _Mayor Wittemore_. “Oh isn't that young Mayor Whittemore so handsome and charismatic?” the old biddies at the coffee shop would croon and Stiles died a little inside. His relationship with Jackson had softened over time from mutual hatred to a sort of laughable rivalry but Stiles still didn't like having to hear about him all the time and see his stupid, cocky face all over the local paper.

Danny was pack now. It was only a matter of time before he found out, honestly, both about werewolves and the fact that Derek was not, in fact, named Miguel and that Stiles is at least attractive to bisexual guys. Danny owned an electronics store downtown. The whole pack knew it was just a front for him being the most badass hacker in the world. All he does is sit back there behind the counter all day, being gorgeous, and doing things on the computer that Stiles (and Stiles considers himself pretty tech savvy, thank you very much) can only categorize as some kind of wizardry. Both Isaac and Danny's mates were new additions to the pack, omegas come looking for an alpha. 

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for omegas to come seeking acceptance in the early days when the pack was just trying to establish itself. Derek had turned a lot of them away, sensing something bad in their character, his wolf instinctively not trusting them, but he had accepted two. One was a young woman, barely nineteen, who had been bitten but never claimed by the alpha that bit her. She was unable to cope with the changes on her own and had been forced to drop out of high school and been disowned by her family. She took odd jobs here and there and, thanks to her werewolf strength, managed to avoid the worst of the people who tried to take advantage of a teenage girl on her own. She drifted into beacon hills and sniffed Derek out. They had recently driven out the alpha pack when Mary came into their lives. She was just about a year older than most of the pack members and she fit in well. Derek gave her the stability she needed and she was able to get her GED and attend Beacon Hills community college where she took their diploma in culinary arts. Isaac had fallen in love with her gentle demeanour and the two were soon inseparable. Stiles was expecting her to arrive soon to help with dinner, no doubt with Isaac and their son in tow. 

The second omega they'd taken in during Stiles's sophomore year in college was a bit older. He was a young man Derek's age. Sam came from a small pack in New Mexico that had been obliterated by hunters with no respect for the code. He had been on the run for years, unable to find a pack willing to take an omega. Stiles knew that Derek had seen something of himself in Sam, and was willing to take him in immediately. Sam had been supporting himself working as a handyman moving from town to town. Just like he did with Mary, Derek helped him attend school in Beacon Hills and Sam was now working as a mechanic. Stiles always said everybody like Danny, and that went double for Sam. Stiles was pretty sure the werewolf had fallen in love at first sight. Danny, on the other hand, took a bit more convincing, but somewhere between Sam's hopeless pining and his six pack abs he managed to win Danny over. 

Stiles returned to the kitchen and got a stack of nine smaller plates to set the children's (or rather cubs') table. Honestly, as big as the house felt sometimes, when the whole pack gathered Stiles had no idea how they were going to fit everyone in by the time he and Derek were grandfathers. The thought gave him a little thrill up his spine, though, as he imagined what Derek would look like with silver hair and wrinkles. Would he need little fanged dentures? Stiles cackled. The idea was ridiculous of course, what with werewolves and their enviably impressive dental health, but Stiles could still laugh at it if he wanted. 

Four of these places belonged to his own cubs. Johnny, the bossy little future alpha, who followed Derek everywhere like a lost puppy. Mark, the quick-witted middle child, whose sass and sarcasm Peter and Stiles were in a constant war to take credit for nurturing, and Alex the youngest boy of the triplets, just as capable of raising hell as his brothers but much better at getting out of the trouble he created. His innocent demeanour should never be believed. He was the most devious of all the triplets. A crafty little cherub who could spin any story in his favor and always seemed to come out on the winning side. That, Stiles had to grudgingly admit, probably came from Peter. All of the boys had Derek's dark hair and green eyes, a fact that gave Stiles no end of joy. He could still remember when they were toddlers. Such cute little sourwolves getting underfoot, growling, chewing on the furniture, partially shifting, flashing their tiny fangs and blue eyes. 

Oh yeah, that was something he had not been prepared for. Apparently born wolves have to be kept away from prying human eyes. By middle school the triplets were ready to be introduced to human society, but before that they had to be home schooled and Stiles was really very glad that Derek didn't have a proper job. Derek had invested his inheritance wisely and carefully monitored his finances, but he didn't need to actually work, thank god, since three little werewolf babies were a world of trouble. Alpha was a full time job, now more than ever, as the pack had grown so large. 

Of course there was Ellie, with his dad's blue eyes and sandy brown hair. She had inherited all Stiles' own research skills and intellect, but not his ADHD. It was almost eerie the way she could be so still and give him these looks, these looks that were so ridiculously, perfectly, _Derek_ that Stiles had a hard time remembering she didn't have his genes. She just adored Derek, and was constantly butting heads with Johnathan as the two vied for the alpha's attention. Stiles left them to it, turning his attention to Mark and Alex, making sure they didn't get lost in the tug of war between the eldest and future alpha, and the youngest and only human. It affected Mark much more than Alex, but thankfully Stiles knew how to see right through sarcasm to what was really beneath it. Alex wasn't at all phased by the rivalries forming between his siblings, he just regarded them with an enterprising eye and made friends with everybody. Crafty, crafty little thing that he was. 

Perhaps having seen the madness that was the Hale household with four cubs (in their defense the triplets had been a surprise. Stiles still teased Derek that his sperm were little overachievers) the rest of the pack had taken the less is more approach to reproduction. 

Scott and Allison had one son, a born wolf, and Stiles was certain Allison's ancestors were collectively rolling in their graves. He had a plan in place for what they'd do when the Argent zombies sprang from their graves. He actually did, that wasn't a joke, he kept it in a folder in his study. Scott and Allison's son was the youngest of the pack's cubs, only 9 years old but still in Ellie's class at school. It had taken awhile for Scott and Allison to work out their issues. It had taken Allison even longer to work out her issues with Derek, but they'd managed it. Understanding that her mother had attempted to murder Scott had gone a long way, and seeing that her family's hard line on Werewolves had as much to do with her mother's suicide as the actual bite, had softened her enough that she consented to join the pack. She would never be close with Derek, but the air didn't seethe with tension when they were in the same room either. As for Scott and Derek, the years of being forced to work together and Stiles' relationship with Derek had finally soothed their rivalry. Scott and Allison had danced around each other junior and senior year, but when it came time for college they refused to let each other go. Stiles could tell, even without a werewolf's nose, that Allison still carried a lot of guilt and was ill at ease from time to time, but she'd made her choice. Scott was her mate and her son was a wolf. She'd been disowned by every member of her family, save for her father. Chris Argent was never really going to be okay with his daughter's life decisions, but he did his best to keep hunters from bothering the Hale pack and, from what Scott had told him, he adored his grandson. 

Stiles still laughs a little every time he thinks of their kid's name. He thought Christopher Stiles was pretty much the biggest contrast in first name-middle name relations since Albus Severus. He was really honored Scott put his name in there (and not his actual name, thank god). His silly best friend loved him after all, who knew. They got what they asked for when they were naming that cub, too, which was really disconcerting. He would be going on and on, hyper and happy and talkative and very Stiles one minute and the next thing you know one of the other cubs would take his toy or accidentally bump into him and he'll go very still and give them this calculating stare and _oh my god_ it was Chris Argent and that was just so wrong. What makes it worse is that he got Scott's derpface and uneven jaw. The end result is this kid that Stiles really just doesn't even know what to do with. When He pictures Christoper Stiles's future he thinks it might be a martial arts Rom Com titled something like _Crouching Moron, Hidden Badass_. 

Lydia and Jackson had a pair of girls, Delilah, 11, and Isabel, 10. Delilah seemed to get everything from her mother from her strawberry hair, her social skills, and her immunity. Stiles isn't sure whether he should be worried or relieved that Ellie has Delilah and Isabel. On the one hand, it will ensure she's never a social outcast like her father was. On the other, Stiles knows what went on at Lydia Martin's parties and he isn't sure he wants his precious baby daughter involved in that. God, he has gotten old and become a huge hypocrite. He would've killed to be involved in that when he was in high school. Two things reassure him: one, that he will never allow any of his children to be shallow or cruel (even if it is just a farce) and two, he's the sheriff and his husband is the local alpha werewolf. Whatever boys or girls Ellie might get involved with at the Martin-Whittemore epic house parties that he _knows_ are coming, will treat her right or suffer the consequences. 

The same goes for his sons, of course, though the whole werewolf thing complicates the issue yet again. Derek had told him Werewolves are driven to be fiercely monogamous, even young, so it's advisable to post-pone relationships. Stiles knew this was part of what led Derek to be taken in by Kate, and while he isn't expecting something on that scale of awful, he is afraid of his boys being hurt as they try to navigate in a human world that works on human rules. Stiles had seen the fierceness of Scott's devotion to Allison tear him apart a time or two in their youth. 

Handling a brood of teenage werewolves is something the pack will have to deal with together. Hopefully it will be easier than living through it was. Not even Lydia and Jackson are in the clear, considering that their youngest daughter, Isabel, did not inherit her mother's immunity. The spitting image of Jackson with cool blue eyes and blond hair and natural athletic talent, Isabel was born a wolf. Stiles pities the kids those two will go to high school with, he really does. Hearts are sure to be broken. 

Stiles places Five's favorite cup, the one he always uses when visiting the Hale house, next to one of the plates, and make's sure to set Two's favorite cup next to it. Vernon Milton Boyd the 5th, otherwise known as “Five” and the equally originally named Isaac Junior, otherwise known as “Two” are both 11 years old and as attached as Scott and Stiles were at their age. 

Every time he sees them Stiles cracks a grin and asks them what they did with three and four and they just give him this look like he's old and boring, and he wants to say "screw you little dudes I'm hilarious", but he doesn't because then he'd get another lecture from Derek about how the alpha's mate has to be a good role model. Pfft. Derek knew what he was getting into when he mated Stiles.

Five may only be 11 but he looks a lot older. He has Erica's warm honey brown eyes and pretty much everything else is Boyd's except the personality. Christ, if the youth of Beacon Hills are to be saved it will only be through the grace of werewolf monogamy because that boy is all Erica shining out of Boyd's tall, dark, and handsome frame. The last time Stiles asked him what happened to three and four, he'd smirked at him and told him they hid the dismembered body parts in the woods, and the joke had very nearly stopped being funny. If his hair had been long enough, Stiles doesn't doubt there would've been a flip involved. 

Two just stood there, all blond cherubic curls and hazel eyes, chuckling, with that slightly deranged look Isaac gets on his face sometimes, and flashed Stiles a little fang. Two reminded Stiles of what Isaac was like when they were really young, before things got bad for him at home. It was nice to see carefree kid again in the form of Isaac's son, even if he is now a werewolf with a morbid sense of humor. Little bastard. 

Only Danny and Sam remain child-free, insisting that they have seen the madness of their packmates and decided quite resolutely _no_ , thank you very much, being Uncle Danny and Uncle Sam is just fine. Stiles gave Danny credit for staying strong in the face of Lydia's insistence that she would be the perfect surrogate and together they would breed a superior race of flawlessly beautiful people. They're really happy just as they are, and Danny has made it clear that on the off chance they do change their mind one day, that they think adoption is the right way to go. 

The cubs all love Danny. It's kind of infuriating to Stiles. How does he do it? He wants to shake him sometimes and demand “Tell me your secrets, Mahealani!” Seriously, everyone loves Danny. Everyone. If Stiles ever meets someone who doesn't like Danny he's going to assume they have no soul and he's going to get the motherfucking salt. 

Speaking of salt, and spices, and cooking, and all that deliciousness, he heard the door open and Derek greeting Isaac and Mary and he heard the boys in the hallway, stomping around loud as hell, and panting like they've just come in from a run, which they have, as Stiles can see, when the whole group came into the kitchen. 

“Human Dad!” Johnny called, and he is absolutely _not_ allowed to call Stiles that in public. “We're starving! Feed us!”

Stiles rolled his eyes as Derek smacked their eldest lightly on the back of the head. “Don't order your father around.”

Stiles remembered fondly when they were little and he was still “Daddy” and Derek was, well, Derek was this particularly adorable little noise somewhere between a whine and a bark that he can't quite put into words. They did call him Dad sometimes, as they got older, and he was _always_ Dad now, but Stiles remembered when they were these feral little toddlers and he was 100% convinced Derek could communicate with them well before they mastered human speech. He had always been Daddy, but of course they were too cool for that now and still needed some way to distinguish between Dads and one of them (Johnathan) thought they'd be funny and came up with “Human Dad”. At first it was “Fragile Dad”, probably as a result of all the lectures they'd gotten about not using the teeth and claws while roughhousing with that particular parental figure. He didn't care, he'd put his foot down about that one. He didn't care if Derek found it hi-fucking-larious how much Stiles hated it. He'd stormed around berating Derek until he'd gotten the feral wee beasties in line. “I am the Sheriff, god dammit! I have saved your alpha ass countless times and you will not allow our children to refer to me as _Fragile Dad_ , you fucker!” Human Dad was a compromise. He supposed this was their retribution for being called Halespawn. 

Fragile Dad was the one who held their alpha up in 8 feet of water for over two hours, but does anyone appreciate how sore his muscles were? Noooo. When Apparently-Not-Fragile-Cause-He's-The-Big-Bad-Wolf Dad was down for the count who took out that invading Alpha like fucking Macgyver with nothing but a steel chain and a pencil dipped in wolf's bane? Oh, that's right, it was _Fragile Dad_. Werewolves. Seriously. 

When Ellie was young they'd both been Daddy, the only difference being the intensity of the emotion behind it. There was “Daddy.” and that was Stiles, and then there was “ _Daddy!_ ” and you know, that's just seriously not fair. When was he ever going to catch a break? But he's not jealous that their daughter hero-worships Derek, of course not, that would be petty and he's a 36 year old man. Now he was “Dad” the one who made her stay in and drilled her on the different kinds of aconite, what they did, and how to treat them...but he guesses that's okay. He knows all their cubs love him. It makes sense that he would be “Dad” to Ellie just like Derek is “Dad” to the boys. He trains her in the things she needs to know to survive and keep the pack alive in his study with his books and his trunk full of supplies just the same way Derek trains Johnny, Mark, and Alex in the woods. To Ellie, Derek still gets to be sort of cool and mysterious and like her own personal giant teddybear/bodyguard and Stiles gets to be Human Dad to the boys. Their quirky, eccentric, funny father who feeds them and laughs at their fangs when they're throwing tantrums and they think he should be scared but he's so not. He's who they come to for comfort when Dad is being a little too much Alpha-Dad and they need one of Human Dad's soft squishy hugs because suddenly that 147lbs of pale skin and fragile bones is the best thing in the world to those little clawed terrors because all they want is some of Stiles' love and he definitely has enough to give and then some. 

He remembers all this as he gave his sons an exasperated smile and pulled a pile of powerbars out of a kitchen drawer. They looked at the fiber-rich deliciousness with judging teenage eyes.  
“What? Dinner won't be ready for another four hours. You just had lunch! You can eat the powerbars or go catch yourself a rabbit or something.”

They looked like they were seriously considering the rabbit option when Johnny shrugged and picked a powerbar out of the pile and the others followed, stuffing their faces and meandering out of the kitchen to go off and do god knows what. 

Stiles was just about to turn and greet Mary and Isaac when he felt Derek's hand, gentle on his arm, tugging him towards the hallway. Isaac is already pilfering one of the remaining powerbars as his mate began to chop onions. 

“Hey.” Stiles pretended to protest as he was thrown against the wall in the hallway. They were both smiling. It had become a standard greeting, born out of nostalgia. 

Derek let out a low, satisfied rumble and nuzzled Stiles' neck. It can't really even be called a proper growl, it's more like a purr but Derek hates being compared to a cat. Stiles grabbed his leather jacket because _yes_ he still has it, and _yes_ he still wears it everyday and _yes_ Stiles has become superstitiously attached to it, terrified that if anything ever happens to that jacket their whole world will fall apart. 

“I'm supposed to be putting dinner on, you know.” Stiles rolled his hips against Derek and pulled him in close. “I can't believe you're distracting me when I have to cook for your ridiculously huge pack.”

Okay, that's totally a purr. There's no other word for it. It's freakishly loud purr. It's like if a helicopter and a cat had a baby and it was a really happy baby, this is the sound it would make. Derek licked the shell of his ear and whispered. “I Like that. Like you smelling like pack, food, and home.” 

Stiles leaned back, baring his neck for Derek to kiss. “I wouldn't mind smelling like some other things if you know what I....”

“We _all_ know what you mean, Stiles!” Isaac called from the kitchen sending a jarring reminder that they're far from alone, even if they are secluded in the hallway. Stupid Werewolf hearing. 

“Honestly!” This time it's Mark calling from the porch. “I know you work up energy on our runs Dad, but no one wants to smell your arousal. It's seriously gross.”

Stiles heard Johnny and Alex chuckle. “Leave Human Dad alone, he's supposed to be making us food!” 

Now that was a real growl, a proper _shut up and let me manhandle your father_ growl. Stiles laughed and silenced Derek's reprimand with a kiss. He still couldn't believe this was actually his life.


End file.
